


Good Templar, Bad Templar

by UltraRed



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, but really that's what you can except with templars and mage children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:26:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4881994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltraRed/pseuds/UltraRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Foul and corrupt are you</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Who have taken My gift</i>
  <br/>
  <i>And turned it against My children.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>-Transfigurations 18:10</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Two templars escort a small mage to the Circle in the middle of a lake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Templar, Bad Templar

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is the first thing I've written for Dragon Age for a while. just something for my Amell, mainly one of her earliest memories, but not from her point of view, because what's the fun in that? You're welcome to point out any mistakes to me you see, be they grammatical or lore related. Enjoy!

It was the second time they'd stopped to let the small mage empty her innards during their short row to the Circle in the middle of lake Calenhad. Not that there was a lot to empty anymore, and it did seem like she was just dry heaving at this point, but still, better in the lake than in the boat. Alrik, the younger templar accompanying her, patted the child's back almost aggressively, more out of annoyance that it was taking her so long than any form of sympathy, and Eloise frowned.

“Leave her be. If you push her any more she'll be in the water soon.” she said, and Alrik glared at her, icy blue eyes in slits, but he complied, thankfully. His eyes frightened Eloise, and made him look like some sort of demon, although she'd never say that out loud. Alrik would not hesitate to strike her in his anger, she was certain of that. He was an impulsive young man from a high standing to begin with, and she? A templar getting frailer and frailer, no matter if she was his senior or not. Whenever she dozed off, she could already hear the faintest hum, coming from the inside, and she knew that this was one of her final journeys, if not the last one already.

The child peered up at them, frightened by the prospect of being pushed into the depths, but even then, she remained silent in her horror. During their whole journey from Kirkwall's Gallows to Kinloch Hold the child had not uttered a single word. Eloise had wondered briefly if she even could speak, but had come to the conclusion that she had just been rendered mute with grief, as when they began their journey she'd just cried and wailed for her mother, until there were no more tears to shed.

She could hardly blame her though, being as small as she was, just barely four years of age. In fact, she'd never seen a mage this young in her life. Neither had anyone in the Gallows, really. Unlike Ser Alrik, who'd gagged the child when her cries got too loud during their stay at an inn, she understood that being separated from one's family was a terrible thing to experience. She herself had been left at the doorsteps of a Chantry when she was just a girl too, barely older than the small mage here. Of course, their situations had been different. The child was from a noble family, while she had been abandoned due to her family being unable to feed any more mouths.

The lap of luxury waited for her in the Circle too. If she survived, she'd never have to work a day in her life, never go hungry if she behaved.

“Better in the Void than live as a mage, if that's even where they go. I just tire of living according to a toddlers whims. The mage can swallow her sickness. I don't care.” Alrik replied, his demon eyes now fixed upon the girl. “The journey back is long. The sooner we finish this, the better.”

Deeming her done with her vomiting, he lifted the girl up by her collar, placing her so that she was between them, and took up the oars once again, continuing his rowing with muted anger. Eloise knew however, that the child was not sick. The voyage from Kirkwall to Fereldan main land had been fairly easy for all of them, and the child had not felt ill once, Eloise had watched her then. It was probably her nerves catching up with her instead, as they approached their final destination.

The mageling's eyes were now fixed upon the tower ahead of her, and the closer they got, the more miserable she looked, if that was even possible at this point. Kinloch Hold, it was called, and as a tower of Tevinter make, it was very intimidating to behold, especially from up close. It reminded Eloise of the Gallows, except maybe with more of an air of gloom to it than one of despair. Then again Kirkwall had that effect on everything, save for its illustrious Hightown. She hated leaving the Gallows, as every time she did, she got lost in the maze like city. 

For Eloise, this was an already familiar sight, having made this journey a couple of times before. In the eyes of the child, however, it probably looked more like a prison than the Gallows had ever done. At least the Gallows were close to home, something she might've seen from her home up in Hightown. Now they were in dog lord territory.

Ungracefully hitting the boat against the pier and with a grunt and a swear word or two from Alrik, they finally docked. The younger templar was the first to rise, and he tied the boat to the dock, securing it so that they had a means to leave. There was, of course, another boat there (only one though, and chained to a metal post), but there was no doubt that no one would be glad if they took that one.

Eloise ushered the child out of the boat, before stepping out herself, careful not to stumble. Her balance was not as great as it used to be. It was a shame too, as she had been a great mage hunter in the past, catching maleficar and apostates alike. Now she just escorted mages from Circle to Circle. Soon she'd stand guard at a Chantry, if even that. She would become like the rest of them, her mind too far gone, lyrium her god instead of the Maker. If she was one of the truly unlucky ones, she'd end up on the streets, doing anything for the carta to get herself the tiniest sliver of her blue deity. She shuddered at the thought of that. Thankfully she'd be unable to even comprehend what was going on, by then.

Before she could get far, Alrik held his hand up, stopping her. He was gripping the child's shoulder with his other hand, like he suspected she could run away at any given moment. It was too late for that anyway, as she doubled the child could even swim, but Eliose remained silent.

“Ser Eloise.” he growled, motioning back to the boat. He was clearly very much done with the whole situation, her included. “The _bag_.”

That was right, Eloise had forgotten all about it. She went back to the boat, and there was a purse, containing some belongings the child had been given by her mother, and most importantly, her phylactery, which the First Enchanter of the Gallows had made, before their departure. It was better safe than sorry, with most children. It could be tricky to find them if they did try and escape, especially in a place like Ferelden, which was mostly wilderness anyway. Once, a grown mage had escaped from them here. Even with his phylactery, it had been a near impossible task to find him, before even the smallest light in the vial had dimmed, signaling his death.

The belongings were mostly toys and trinkets, and she was sure that servants would divide the beautiful pendants and bracelets amongst themselves by the time the girl had her first meal here. They did deserve them, for working as diligently as they did, especially in a dreadful location as this. At least from the Gallows one could take a boat to the main city. Here, in true Fereldan fashion, one had but a measly tavern, and the ratty town of Redcliffe nearby smelling of wet dog, if you wanted to make the journey by boat there in the first place.

Before they even reached the gate the templar outside greeted them from the distance, and without any prompting from them he opened the gates. They had been expected. Inside the entrance hall, he or another templar waited for them. It was really impossible to know if they were facing the same man. He had his helmet on, as most templars did and should, to not give the mages a face for their guardians. While traveling neither Eloise or Alrik had worn one, mostly for their own comfort, as it did get hot and it chafed awfully after a while. The child had not minded. She doubted she would even remember them after a month had passed, anyway.

“Follow me. I'll take you to the First Enchanter's office. The Knight Commander is on his way there, as we speak.” came his muffled voice from under his helmet. Eloise knew where the office was, but let the templar do his duty. He sounded like a young man. Mostly likely he seldom got anything but guard duty on his roster, hadn't probably even been to any Harrowings yet. They followed him, up the tower and through the tall libraries and long, circular hallways, under the curious scrutiny of the mages and apprentices littering their way, until they reached the familiar office, with its door already open for them. Inside, both the First Enchanter and Knight Commander were waiting for them, neither of them seated. Both were familiar faces to Eloise, unlike with Alrik for whom this was his first time out of the Free Marches in any case.

As always, the First Enchanter was quick with his mouth, and spoke up first.

“Ah, welcome, Ser Eliose, Ser Otto. I am, as you may know, First Enchanter Irving. And I see you've brought our newest charge with you.” he said. He was an already greying mage, or was he surprisingly young? One never knew, not with mages. Last time Eloise had seen him he'd looked exactly the same as he did now. He was a tricky one though, and much more conniving that one might've though. His whole demeanor radiated sharpness, sharpness she'd never had. It was probably why she'd never risen in ranks as fast as her other colleagues. Alrik did not seem to hold him in high regards, though. After all, the mage had just referred to him as “Otto”, by his given name, like one would towards someone without a family to them. Someone like her.

If he did notice Alrik's barely concealed distaste, he paid no attention to it. He walked calmly towards them, and looked the mageling. She looked down shyly (or scared), grabbing the hem of her shirt. In the light of the Tower, she looked almost blighted and sickly, with her dirty face and clothes, and nest of dark hair. One would never believe this child was once of noble status.

Before he could speak again, however, the Knight Commander cut in.

“Welcome in my stead as well. You've come earlier than scheduled. I am Knight Commander Greagoir.”

He was a lot younger than Eloise, definitely less grey than both her and the other elder in the room, with only a bit of silver peppering his hair elegantly. He seemed peeved at the First-Enchanter, eyeing him sharply. When the older man looked back at him, his expression did not change, and it seemed like they were having a wordless exchange, laced with icy glares. They had the classic power struggle going on between them, with the prideful First Enchanter trying to win in a battle they would always lose, but having enough power in the hierarchy to at least make the Knight Commander's life as miserable as possible.

Predictably, the first to turn away was the mage, and he faced the child again, crouching to be at her level.

“Hello there, young miss. I am First Enchanter Irving, as I'm sure you just heard, and this is Kinloch Hold. It will be your home from now on.” He smiled, although one could barely notice it for all the beard he had. Then he asked, even though he already knew the answer, “Now tell me, child, what is your name?”

After a moments contemplation, the girl lifted her head, looking the First Enchanter straight in the eye with confidence that hadn't been there a moment ago. Suddenly she did not seem like a child who would puke at the mere thought of entering the menacing tower in the middle of the lake.

“Alana Amell, messere.” she spoke without hesitation, even if her voice was quiet.

“Well, Alana, we need to get you sorted out here. A lady will be here shortly, and she'll take good care of you, get you clean and fed. Won't be long now.” The First Enchanter smiled at her, but she didn't even try and pretend to smile back.

“That would be lovely.” she said, instead, like a good, proper lady. You could see that she had been a noble a mile away. At least the tower would maybe root that out of her, and make her more humble, although somehow Eloise doubted it. Even this far away, her parents would find a way to pamper her.

The Knight Commander turned to them, ignoring the child completely.

“Will you be staying the night? Dine with us?” he asked. He sounded forceful about it, although that might've just been how he normally talked, being the commander and all, and Eloise almost said yes, on her part. Alrik glared at her, however, his message clear. He wanted to leave this Circle in the backwoods immediately. It was clear that this would be his first and last time escorting anyone, if he had any say in the matter. She was somewhat glad they wouldn't be staying. The tower's circular layout made her dizzy, and the templars' quarters were high up.

“We'll give you the phylactery, and then we'll be on our way.” Alrik said, his impatience clear in his tone, and Eloise started to dig the bag for the vial. It was a surprisingly small and elegant one, something you could easily wear around your neck like a pendant. Either a prelude to the mage's future escape, or just something her family had sponsored for her. Well, never mind that. She'd also seen a phylactery that was once a jar of pickles, after all, probably made in a haste, so this was definitely the more templar friendly option. She handed it to the Knight Commander wordlessly, and held the bag in her hands awkwardly.

“I have some... Personal belongings here. The girl's. Where should I place them?” she asked. Alrik looked at her briefly, eyebrows raised slightly, before turning his gaze at the Knight Commander again. Maybe he had been sure she'd keep the trinkets. The very thought was insulting. He thought that lowly of her? That she needed to take the baubles of a child? Besides, what would she do with them? The whole notion was laughable. At least a servant might have a sweetheart somewhere. She? She had nothing, only the Maker.

“They'll be taken care of. Place them on the desk.” the Knight Commander told her. Just then an elven woman entered the room. Clearly not a mage, but a servant, her eyes fixed immediately upon the mage child, who'd been talking quietly with the First Enchanter all this time (or been talked to) while they were occupied with the phylactery, and once she reached the child, she gasped.  
  
“My, look at you! You look awful, you poor thing!”

This was their cue. They had to go.

“We'll take our leave.” she said, taking the initiative from Alrik this time. She did not need to look towards the woman to see that she was glaring at them.

Both men said their goodbyes to them, and when they passed the woman, she could definitely hear a hiss coming from her. Something about “shem”. What had they done to instill her wrath upon themselves? If she did not enjoy working with humans or templars, then she needed to just do something else. She was sure a farm somewhere would take her in for certain.

“Knife-ears. Never understood them.” Alrik scoffed once they were out of her line of sight. Eloise didn't say a word about how distasteful he was being.

They made their way to the boat, and once again, Alrik took to rowing on their way back to the shore. Maybe she was too slow for him. After a moments silence, he felt that it was an opportune moment to speak up again.

“Well, at least we delivered the brat here in one piece. I can't get out of Ferelden soon enough. The smell of wet dog will stick to me forever at this rate.”

Eloise couldn't help herself anymore.

“That 'brat' had a name.” she said, and Alrik raised his eyebrow at her, and tsked.

“Suit yourself. That one's not going to survive her Harrowing though, if she ever gets to it, mark my words. She's already as good as tranquil. ”

He rowed the rest of the way even more so aggressively than he had on the way there, but in silence, and Eliose felt like she had achieved a victory, even if it was a small one. The rest of the journey would be peaceful too, as they were just returning. The last time she'd been to here she'd been pegged with the duty to deliver a phylactery to Denerim as well. Now that city was something the younger templar would've loved to complain about.

She looked at him, the haughty young man, too sure of himself, and allowed herself a smug smirk. The last thing this man should've become was a templar. Clearly, he hated his job, and hated mages tenfold. She was a crumbling, no-good templar, but at least she had one thing to console herself with.

At least she was not as bad as Alrik.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you had a fun read!


End file.
